


no such thing as giving up

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Character Death Fix, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Eliot learns about what Alice did (in 5x02) and sets out to help her and the others bring Quentin back--for good.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be updated as needed and this is my first the magicians fic in a while so... be kind
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight and tumblr @ korrmin

Eliot heard news of Alice’s accomplishment and nearly fell over from the shock of it. Thankfully Margo was there to catch him.

“She–she brought him back,” he said, stammering over his words.

Julia was standing in front of them, a pained expression on her face. “She did,” she confirmed, “but it wasn’t our Q,” she specified. “It was, um–”

“A younger version of him,” Margo finished for her, lips pressed together. “Yeah, we heard that part.”

Julia nodded, wringing her hands. “Alice is–she’s not well right now,” she said slowly, staring at Eliot. He hated the look in her eyes: knowing and soft. “As soon as he fulfilled his purpose, he passed away–again–and she’s not taking it well. I mean,” she smiled ruefully. “Who would?”

“Jesus,” Margo mumbled.

Eliot leaned against her, needing the support. His injuries had mostly healed. Well, his physical ones. “But this means we could do it,” he said, and he hated how pathetic his voice sounded to his own ears. “We just have to–to do it right this time.”

Julia nodded curtly. “I want to try again too,” she assured him. “But we need Alice for it and…” she trailed off.

“We don’t know if waiting too long will have consequences though,” Margo said, her eyes hard with determination. “Let me talk to her.”

Eliot squeezed her shoulder. “Let me,” he said and Margo looked at him oddly.

“Why?” she asked. “You two have never been friends.”

Eliot knew she was right, but… “We almost were,” he said softly. “And maybe we still can be.”

Margo narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked sharply, but he knew she was just worried.

“I’ll let you know if I need your claws, tiger,” he assured her with a small smile.

She nodded, looking pleased, and kissed his cheek. “Okay,” she said.

Eliot kissed her back, a quick peck on the lips, before untangling their limbs. Julia smiled tightly.

“She’s at her mom’s place,” she said, and Margo visibly cringed at the mention of _parents_. Eliot felt the same way.

He held his head high. “Lead the way.”

-

They left the loft and walked through the city together, mostly silent.

“So.” Julia said, adjusting her scarf.

Eliot glanced over at her and saw her exhaustion in every inch of her body. The bags under her eyes, her messy hair, her slumped shoulders. “So,” he parroted.

“Um, it’s a dumb question, but how are you doing up?” she asked quickly.

Eliot almost laughed because it was such a ridiculous question, but he knew she was hurting too and it would be cruel. And he wanted to be better now. He promised himself he’d be better.

“Not great,” he admitted gruffly, taking long strides. Julia struggled to keep up.

She nodded, frowning. “I was–can I admit something?” she asked quietly.

Eliot looked over at her and nodded silently.

“I, um–I was too scared to try anything to bring Q back,” she said, all at once. Eliot’s skin prickled, but he ignored the rush of anger he felt. “Not because–not because I didn’t want him back. God, Eliot, I _need_ him back. But…”

Eliot stared ahead. “But?” he prompted, not unkindly.

Julia chewed on her bottom lip. “I was too scared of trying and–and failing,” she admitted in a small voice. “Because I didn’t think I could take it. I couldn’t take failing him again, Eliot.”

He heard her tears before he saw them. Eliot swallowed thickly and reached out, slow, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Julia laughed wetly, scrubbing at her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I–I don’t know why I’m telling _you_ this.”

Eliot rubbed his arm. “Do you think we could afford a detour?” he asked.

Julia blinked once. “I–sure,” she said, nodding. It wasn’t like Alice was expecting them. “Why?”

He hummed. “I want something to tell you,” he admitted. “Coffee?”

Julia smiled through her tears. “Coffee sounds good,” she replied and Eliot smiled back, tight, steering them toward one of his favorite cafes.

-

Eliot sat across from her, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Julia had ordered something ridiculously sweet and the whole thing reminded him painfully of Quentin.

“So…” Julia took a sip, getting whipped cream on her face. She licked it away seconds later. “What did you need to tell me?”

Eliot smiled tightly, looking down. “Did Quentin ever tell you about the mosaic?”

There was a pause. “He–he mentioned it,” she said slowly, “but never in detail.”

Eliot took a shaky breath and looked up. “Well, want to hear about it?”

Julia reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “If you want to tell me, yes.”

“I–I don’t know what I want,” he admitted, “but I think he would want you to know. I don’t know.” Eliot shrugged weakly. “I don’t know anything nowadays.”

Julia squeezed his arm. “I’m all ears, Eliot.”

He nodded and took a moment before he opened up, telling her all about the mosaic. He didn’t miss any details; he told her about their first kiss, their first night together, their first fight (which was, obviously, his fault), Quentin meeting Arielle, how they had Teddy, how Eliot was never excluded or forgotten, how Arielle was always unexpectedly understanding and sweet, and then she died and it was just him and Quentin raising a child on their own.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Eliot took a slow sip of his now-cold coffee. “I–I was in love with him,” he said, “for a really, really long time.”

Julia smiled sadly. “He was in love with you too, I think,” she said.

“I know,” he said, no longer in denial. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “But back then I wasn’t confident in me, in him, in _us_. I turned him away because I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He opened his eyes and saw Julia’s knowing look again. “No, you didn’t.”

Eliot smiled tightly. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I knew I was being an idiot, I knew he really loved me, I knew all of it but I was still too much of a coward to–”

Julia kicked him under the table. “Hey, stop it,” she said. “Q would hate hearing you talk about yourself like that.”

He knew she was right. “I want to be with him,” he said instead. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Julia hesitated. “But he was with Alice before he…” she trailed off.

“I know,” he said. “And I know when we save him–because we will–that he might still want her and that’s… okay.” Eliot ignored the sharp pain in his chest. “I just want him back, Julia. I don’t care about anything else.”

She nodded. “Ready?”

Eliot finished his coffee in one big gulp. “Yeah, let's go.”

-

Alice did not answer the door, which Julia did not seem surprised by. She used a bit of magic and unlocked the door, opening it herself.

Eliot followed her through the house until they entered a large living room.

He immediately saw her: Alice, curled up on the couch with a blanket, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her face puffy and red from crying.

She looked up at their entrance and frowned. “Get out,” she said, sitting up.

“Alice,” Julia said, stepping forward. “I told him about what you did.”

She stiffened, her shoulders a tense line. “Why?” she asked sharply.

“Because I knew he would want to help,” Julia said, folding her arms over her chest. “And he does, and so do the others.”

Alice huffed, slumping back against the cough. “What’s the point?” she asked quietly. Her eyes grew wet and she roughly wiped at them.

“You did something amazing, Alice,” Eliot said, stepping forward. “Something most of us probably couldn’t do on our own. With our help, we might really be able to–” he swallowed the lump in his throat “–bring him back. _Our_ Q.”

Alice glared at her feet, silent.

“I’ll give you both a moment,” Julia whispered before leaving the room.

Eliot sighed lightly and walked over, joining her on the couch. Alice ignored him, fidgeting with the blanket.

“I told Julia about something today and I think it’s time I tell you too,” he said without looking at her.

Alice didn’t reply.

Eliot cleared his throat. “Did Quentin ever tell you about… _us?_ ”

She tensed again and that was answer enough. “Only bits and pieces,” she said finally, sharp. “I mostly filled in the rest.”

Eliot nodded. He wanted to run. He always wanted to run, but he couldn’t. “He wanted to try but I turned him down,” he said, voice rough with the promise of tears.

“And so he ran to me,” she said, even and calm. “Second best, like always.”

Eliot frowned and turned, facing her on the couch. “Don’t say that.”

She looked up at him, expression perfectly blank. “But it’s true, isn’t it?” she said, on the edge of mean. “I was second best to my parents, to Quentin. I was praised yet I still couldn’t even get into Brakebills.” Her voice rose as she talked, getting higher and higher. “I will always be _second_ best _.”_

Eliot shook his head. “Alice,” he said. “That’s not true. You’re the most talented magician I know.”

“But that’s never enough,” she said, bottom lip quivering. “Is it?”

Eliot didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Alice stared at him even as tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision.

He reached over and gently wrapped an arm around her. Surprisingly, she didn’t push him away.

“I have to be honest with myself now,” he said softly, “which means if we get Q back, I’m telling him how I feel.” He cleared his throat. “But I don’t think–I don’t _want_ that to mean we have to be enemies again, Alice.”

She buried her face in his hands, sobbing silently. “So what?” she asked through her sobs. “You want us to be _friends_?”

Eliot didn’t know if that was on the table, but he knew his answer. “Yes,” he said. “I want us to be friends, if you think we could be.”

Alice pulled her hands away, squaring her shoulders. “I–I don’t know what the future holds,” she said, wiping her face, “but I wanted us to be friends since the first day we met on campus, Eliot.”

He nodded, feeling a bit of guilt. “I know,” he whispered, “and I’m sorry.”

Alice shrugged weakly. “Life is about second chances,” she said softly. “Or at least that’s what I’m learning, I think.”

Eliot rubbed her arm. “We’ll get him back, Alice,” he said, meaning it. “No matter what.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i dont remember much of canon bc i havent rewatched the show since the s4 finale bc it's too painful so take everything with a grain of salt im doing this for the characters *chefs kiss* plot who?

Eliot was still recovering in more ways than one; mentally, he was a mess but physically he wasn’t much better. Margo knew this, of course, and promptly informed the others he needed to be left out of most of the casting.

“Bambi,” he argued weakly.

She looked at him with a hard, unwavering determination. “No,” she said simply and turned back to the others.

Eliot sighed, leaning against the wall and staring at the _thing_ that was supposed to be Quentin. It was the vaguest of human shapes and looked nothing like the bright, lovely man he loved.

Alice was explaining everything and he was only half-listening.

“So,” she said at the end. “We need something that belonged to him.”

He saw Julia’s flinch. “But we burned most of his stuff,” she said, sounding guilty.

Eliot looked away. Kady and Penny had joined them, too, but frankly Eliot didn’t know why. Kady had never been close with Quentin, and this Penny barely even knew _their_ Quentin.

“His room,” Kady said. “We can just grab a shirt or something, right?”

Alice hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. Eliot had been worried about forcing her to join them, at first, but now he knew it’d been the right thing to do. She always seemed to be at her best when there was a plan, something for her brilliant brain to focus on.

“It can’t just be anything,” she said finally. “It has to have _meant_ something to him.”

Penny scoffed. “Perfectly vague much?”

Julia promptly elbowed him, hard, in the side without even looking.

“And discounting that,” Alice continued, folding her arms over her chest, “the spell still needs to be modified. Originally the person is only meant to live until their purpose has been fulfilled, but… you don’t even really know what the purpose is until it’s happened and–” she cut herself off, looking feeble and Eliot pushed off from the wall.

He walked over and wrapped an arm around her, and ignored Margo’s dramatic gasp.

“So we need to find something important to Q,” Julia said, “and modify the spell.” She squared her shoulders. “That’s not so hard. I think we can do this.”

Alice sniffed and smiled at Eliot, tight, who released her and stepped back. “I’ll work on modifying the spell. Julia, if you will stay and help me.”

Julia nodded and stepped forward.

“The rest of you should search for something you think will work,” she continued, clearing her throat. “We’ll contact you when we think the spell is ready.”

-

Eliot hadn’t stepped foot in Quentin’s room since–well, since he died. He stood outside of it, gripping Margo’s hand so hard he knew it had to hurt but she took it like a champ.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I can look by myself.”

Eliot quickly shook his head, squeezing her hand, once, before letting go. He nodded at Margo and she opened the door.

It was weird, Eliot thought with a sickening feeling, Quentin’s room looked untouched. Like when he left, he truly had intentions of returning.

He took a shaky breath and walked to the bed, sitting down gingerly.

Margo watched him for a moment, a worried crease between her eyebrows, before she turned away and started searching the room.

Eliot was unhelpful for the first few minutes, just sitting there, trying not to sob because he knew once he started he wouldn’t stop. He had that in common with Margo, his best friend, his platonic soulmate, the one person he thought could get him through Quentin’s death.

But it still hadn’t been enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

Margo huffed, obviously annoyed, as she slammed a drawer shut. “Nothing!”

Eliot looked over at her and maybe for the first time he saw how Quentin’s death was weighing on her, too. The bags under her eyes, the tense line of her shoulders.

He looked away and scooted over, reaching out for the bedside table.

Opening it, he looked inside and found nothing worth mentioning except, well, a bottle of lube that had Eliot speechless for a few seconds.

He barely realized Margo was standing over him until she let out a harsh laugh. “Of fucking course,” she said, but Eliot could hear the waver in her voice. He grabbed her waist and pulled her in his lap, burying his face in her shoulder. “I miss him, too, El,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Maybe–maybe we need to, um, go to his mom’s house?” Eliot knew Quentin and his mother had a strained relationship at best but they were running out of options.

“Do you really think he would have a deep attachment to anything there?”

She was right, and he hated it. Eliot sighed and pulled back. “There has to be something,” he said. She nodded, brushing hair out of his face.

“We’ll find it,” she assured him, sounding confident, like always. She climbed out of his lap and walked to the door, turning around and making a square with her fingers.

Eliot’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought maybe–” she cut off with a gasp. “El,” she said. “El, get up.”

He scurried off the bed and rushed over, mimicking her. He saw what she was seeing immediately: there was something under the mattress of Quentin’s bed, glowing with residual magic.

“What do you think it is?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Margo nudged him. “Go look.”

Eliot knew she didn’t think it was any danger or else she wouldn’t let him be the one to do it. Walking over, he used his telekinesis to nudge the mattress out of the way.

When he saw the folded up piece of paper, he let out a soft gasp.

Margo ran over. “What?” she asked, looking unimpressed with their findings.

Eliot reached out and picked it up, unfolding the paper. Margo glanced over his shoulder. “It’s the letter,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “That we read together when we got back from the mosaic.”

Margo narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He’d told her just bits and pieces, too, never the full story. “Okay,” she said, taking the paper. “I’m under the impression this might be powerful enough to work the spell.” Eliot stared at her, and she raised an eyebrow. “Any objections?”

He shook his head, still stunned into silence, his heart thumping loudly.

“We need food,” Margo said suddenly, tucking the letter carefully in her bag.

Eliot swallowed thickly. “We–we should tell Alice and, um–”

“They haven’t even contacted us yet to let us know they’ve finished the spell, El,” she reminded him, grabbing his hand. “So I think we can afford an hour for lunch. Come on.”

Eliot nodded, numb and feeling too much all at once.

“And,” she said, pulling him out of the room. “You’re going to tell me _everything_.”

-

Eliot wasn’t very hungry, but he picked at his sandwich anyway.

“Wow,” Margo said. “I–I knew you had feelings for him, babe, but this is, like, monumental.”

He smiled, just barely, as he looked up. “I have to get him back, Bambi,” he said, surprised by his own determination. “I have to tell him.”

“I know,” she said, reaching over and patting his arm. “We’re doing the best we can, El. One step at a time.”

-

By the end of lunch, Penny had shown up and grabbed both of them without much warning. When Eliot opened his eyes, he was back in the basement– _where_ was this, exactly? he thought–and staring at Alice and Julia.

“I–I think we did it,” Alice said, wringing her hands. “Did you guys find anything?”

She looked at Kady and Penny, who both shook their heads. Alice frowned, quickly turning her attention to Eliot and Margo, eyes wide with hope. She didn’t even ask them, just waited.

Eliot looked over at Margo, who looked back.

She opened her bag and pulled out the letter, handing it to Eliot. He took it, held it like it was something precious, and stepped forward.

“I–I don’t know,” he said, honestly, “but I think this might work.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Alice took the paper and went to open it. Eliot’s heart caught in his throat. “Just–do it, okay?” he asked as Margo leaned on him for silent support.

She frowned. Julia looked between them with a hint of worry, like she expected a fight.

Eliot didn’t want that, and he knew, deep down, Alice wanted the same thing.

She sighed and turned around, approaching the clay. Eliot watched with bated breath as she placed the paper in a metal bowl and nodded at Julia, who circled the table with Quentin’s hopefully soon-to-be body, standing across from her.

From his understanding, Alice had performed the spell by herself previously but there was never any harm in getting some help, especially when they were playing with such dangerous magic.

Margo found his hand, squeezing, and he squeezed back, silent.

Alice reached across the clay, taking Julia’s hands, and started to chant. Julia joined her after a few seconds, their voices confident and unwavering.

Eliot admired them in that moment; two strong women, much like his Bambi.

He could feel the magic pouring off the two magicians, especially Julia, strong and unyielding.

Julia, who had lost her magic and gotten it back because of Quentin’s death.

Margo squeezed his hand, hard, and he looked at her. “Are you okay?” she whispered, searching his face.

“Um,” he almost laughed, but was too afraid of interrupting the spell. “No,” he said truthfully. “But–but I will be, if this works.”

Margo nodded, a determined set to her features as she looked back.

It was so slow Eliot barely realized it was happening, but the clay–it was changing, shifting in front of him. He let out a soft gasp and Margo looked at him, a crease of worry between her eyebrows.

“It’s–it’s–” he stammered.

Alice released Julia’s hands and pressed her hands to the clay, and Julia copied her.

Eliot closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch. He squeezed Margo’s hand, a silent question–please tell me if it works–and she squeezed back, a silent answer.

He didn’t need to be told, though, because he somehow just _knew_.

He heard footsteps, Kady and Penny stepping closer, and Julia’s sob and–and Alice’s sob, which followed seconds later.

Margo squeezed his hand and he opened his eyes, and–

oh, God,

it was Quentin, sitting up and looking dazed and _different_. His hair was so short, no longer framing his face, and he had new wrinkles around his eyes, the corners of his mouth.

He sobbed, sudden and sharp, and released Margo’s hand, stepping closer.

“Q?” That was Julia’s voice. “Um, can you please say something?”

Eliot searched his face, waiting. He wanted, more than anything, to hear his voice. God, he’d been missing his face, his hands, his eyes, but he never stopped to think about how much he missed his fucking _voice_.

“Wh–” Quentin croaked, pausing and starting over. “Where am I?”

Eliot almost sobbed again, stopped himself with a hand over his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter,” was Alice’s clipped reply. “How do you feel?”

Quentin blinked a few times. “I–” he glanced down at his own body, flexing his fingers in his lap. “I feel okay.”

Eliot stepped closer, heart thumping loudly. Alice was smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a smile on her face.

“And what do you remember?” Julia asked, a little choked. “Before… you know.”

And that was when things took a turn for the worst:

Quentin looked at her. “Before… _what?_ ” he asked. “Fuck,” he said, moving to get off the table. Alice stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“You shouldn’t be moving just yet,” she said. “Give yourself a mom–”

Quentin’s eyes were wide and there was something _wrong_ , Eliot could tell, even before he opened his mouth and asked a question that stunned all of them into silence.

“But–but what about the Beast?”

No one said anything. Quentin looked at all of them, almost pleading.

“What?” he asked, an odd tilt to his voice. “Did–did something happen?” He looked at Julia, obviously thinking he could trust his best friend to be honest. “Jules,” he said, “why do you look…?”

The implication was heavy in the air: _older_.

Eliot might’ve laughed, Julia might’ve laughed, even, under any other circumstances. Julia couldn’t even answer him.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Alice exclaimed, startling most of the others out of their shock. “We fucked up the spell,” she continued, ignoring Quentin. “We didn’t drag all of his memories back.”

Eliot felt like there was a hand around his neck, squeezing the life out of him.

Margo reached for his hand again. “But… we can fix it, right?” she asked.

“I’m right here,” Quentin said sharply and when he moved to get off the table no one stopped him. He stumbled a few steps before righting himself. “What are you guys _talking_ about?”

Julia stepped over to him and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Q, there’s, um… God, it’s a long story.”

“I can tell,” he replied, not entirely unkind, not in the face of his best friend.

Eliot was at a loss for words. Alice reached up, tugging at her hair.

“We should get some food in you,” Julia said, a tight smile on her face. “Um, we can discuss… _things_ over dinner.”

Quentin nodded, frowning. “Can… can we order pizza?” he asked in a small voice.

Eliot thought of a young Quentin–of the Quentin Alice had brought back. They weren’t so different, really, were they?

Julia wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, of course,” she replied. She looked around at the others. “Come on, guys.”

He watched, silent, as all the others filed out of the room.

Not Margo, though, never would she abandon him, especially when he was hurting. She stepped in front of him, clasping both his hands.

“El,” she said, just a little pointed. “ _Don’t_. We brought him back. That’s what matters, right?”

Eliot nodded, slow, not really listening.

“Alice is… _smart_ ,” she said, “I’m sure she’ll find a way to fix this. Just be happy he’s here, okay? One thing at a time.”

He knew she had a point. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, taking one of his hands and tugging him toward the door.

He followed, ignoring the pain in his chest, telling him that that wasn’t _his_ Quentin.

-

An hour later and they were at the apartment, Quentin on the couch, surrounded by Julia and Alice.

Julia, who was doting on him.

Alice, who was watching him with wide, almost sad eyes.

Eliot pointedly stayed away, leaning against the counter. Margo was with him, keeping him company during his brooding.

At least Quentin looked happy, all things considered, munching on a piece of pepperoni pizza, the corners of his mouth shining with oil.

He wanted to walk over and wipe it off with a napkin.

He didn’t. Julia did. Quentin rolled his eyes and swatted her hand away.

“So,” Kady said, her voice perfectly even, “are we going to tell him or what?”

Quentin swallowed audibly and licked his lips. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I–I want to know what’s going on.”

“Of course, Q,” Julia replied, putting a hand on his arm. “Just–it’s a lot and I don’t know. Don’t you want to get some rest first?”

He seemed to consider this. “I mean, I _am_ tired,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Okay, great,” Julia said, brightening. “You go get some sleep and we can discuss everything in the morning.”

Eliot almost snorted. She was obviously putting it off.

Quentin stood up and Eliot followed him with his eyes. He was so _beautiful._ He wanted to tell him everything, starting with the truth of his feelings.

“Okay, well,” Quentin said awkwardly. He went to brush hair out of his face that wasn’t there, and frowned briefly. “Um, well. Night, I guess.”

Eliot opened his mouth–the least he could do was say something to him before he retired for the night–but then Quentin ducked down and pecked Alice on the lips. His mouth hung open.

Margo found his arm in seconds, squeezing, _hard_. He ignored her.

Alice stared at him with wide eyes, obviously at a loss for words. Eliot didn’t understand why–hadn’t they gotten together before Quentin’s death?

Fuck, it was thinking that–those exact words–that made Eliot almost cry.

Quentin had died, but he was back, walking out of the room to fucking _sleep_.

“Okay,” Kady said once Quentin was gone. “What the _fuck?”_


End file.
